If I look this up on Wikipedia I’ll find out the year of release. That will fill in details neither of us want – how old I was, what point of school I’d reached, how I should have known better, your age in relation to mine – so if you don’t look it up then I won’t either. Deal?
My Dad used to pick us up every other weekend, and when we weren’t playing Warhammer or going places then I’d be settled at a table in my Grandparents’ house doing my homework while he napped. It was a useful arrangement, because I didn’t want my work checked through and he really needed the sleep. I also got to use the time to write little notes, that would inevitably be passed around class soon afterwards.
The spirit of the notes fluctuated over time. Early on they were weird sci-fi plots, a theme I would later pick up again, or plans for how we might effect great change in the week ahead. Let’s do Goldeneye four player at Tom’s they might say, or Don’t pick on me if we play opposite teams in Perfect Dark. Through different phases the notes might refer to Star Wars Cards or Mordheim, for a lump of time it was 40K or bust, but the general point was Can we do something together this week guys?
Because, ultimately, I knew the other notes I was writing weren’t going anywhere. They were erratic, never more than one a month, always to different people, always with non-specific declarations of affection. Always rejected. I remain stunned that people write love letters, because in my experience they don’t get you anywhere.
A few days back I caught a snippet of this on the radio, and I was plunged into a living memory; crouched over that homework table, writing out the lyrics to this track from memory, waiting to give it to Debbie on Monday, who would give it Hannah…
It’s important to note that on reading this back to myself I realised what a creepy child I was. Ladies; I’m sorry. I knew not what I did.